Stardazed
by Aquawings
Summary: Max Ride has her own opinion and she's sticking to that. One thing she is ABSOLUTELY sure about is that Nick Valentine is a good for nothing poser of a rockstar. What happens when she meets him? What if he wants a chance to prove her wrong? All Human.
1. Rock Concert

**Hey people! Ok, so I'm back. With a new story. I HAVE NOT given up on Camp Disaster. I just find it hard to put my ideas on paper, what with stressing over school and everything. But I do somehow need a fresh start. So here I am with a new story. I LOVE this idea. No joke. It's really fun to write so I hope you guys like it. It's a new idea, that no one has used, like usual. I don't like repeated ideas. If it seems like another story, it totally isn't. Iggy's down at the bottom waiting for you ;)**

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><p>Max Ride knows what she's doing. She has her own opinion and she's sticking to that. A lot of people don't get her. One thing she is ABSOLUTELY sure about is that Nick Valentine is a good for nothing poser of a rockstar. He's world famous with millions of girls kissing at his feet, vying for his attention. So why wouldn't he be a stuck-up bastard? But she's forced to a concert by her best friend. What happens when she meets him? What if he wants a chance to prove her wrong? All Human. Enjoy.<p>

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><p>Stardazed Chapter 1-Rock Concert<p>

"ZOMG! You can't do this to me Max! I have been planning this for WEEKS. You are coming whether your sorry behind likes it or not!" Nudge screamed.

"God Dammit, Fudgesicle! You know I absolutely DESPISE the entire living existence of Nick Valentine, so why the hell would you buy two tickets to one of his god-damned auto-tuned concerts and invite ME of all people? I told you a million bajillion times I am not going to that concert!" I yelled back, utterly frustrated. Maybe I should rewind a bit.

Hi, my name is Maximum Ride, but everyone calls me Max 'cause Maximum is such a mouthful. And for all you idiots out there, it's not Maxie, or Maxine. It's Max, M-A-X. If you can't understand that, please don't come back 'til you learn how to read. That crazy girl screaming her lungs out at me was Monique Carmelo, but everyone calls her Nudge. She can talk non-stop for hours, literally, without letting anyone get a word in edge-wise. She also happens to be my best friend. I have no idea how. To explain a little about our situation, Nudge is horrendously obsessed with this teen rock star name Nick Valentine. He's this dude who sings and plays a wackload of instruments that makes girls fall at his feet. Personally, I think he's a tool. He sings all these songs about love and heartbreak, what does he know? Nudge on the other hand has fallen under his spell and she is crazy 'in love' with him. She has posters, and albums, and t-shirts, even a pencil case. It also happens that Nudge got two front row seats to his concert in LA, where we live. She seems to have delusioned herself into thinking that I agreed to come with her. That's not true. I despise Nick Valentine. He's a fake, just like all those other poser musicians that got famous because of their looks rather than their talent. So you see, it's not the music I despise, it's _him._ And yet _somehow _the phycopa-I mean my best friend convinced me into going to the concert in the end…

I parked my Audi R8 2010 (my parents are loaded) and I grabbed my leather jacket. I stuffed huge sunglasses onto my face and walked around to the front of the car, where Nudge was waiting. She had a scowl on your face as she scrutinized what I was wearing. I looked down too. Nudge had forced me into this ridiculously short jean skirt, and a strappy decorative tank, as well as these ludicrous 5-inch stilettos. She curled my hair and put smokey makeup on my eyes, the kind you can't remove without that make-up removal stuff, which I don't have. I decided to tweak my wardrobe, just a little… Instead I was now wearing a red off shoulder loose shirt with a studded black leather belt around the waist. I wore dark skinny jeans instead of that disgusting skirt, and red leather boots. My hair was still curled, but I wore my big sun-glasses to hide my make-up. I think Nudge was more mad at the fact that I also wore a cap with the words 'Linkin Park' written across it. Yah, that was it. I thought it was funny, wearing a LP hat to a Nick Valentine concert, especially in the front row where 'Nick' can see. If she was going to drag me there, I might as well have some fun. Nudge on the other hand look like your regular crazed fan-girl. The form fitting neon t-shirt with a nice big headshot of Nick Valentine's face, his name, 'I 3 NICK, and hell, even her cell number. Also a jean miniskirt, and bright pink stiletto heals. She had straightened her unruly curly hair thank god, and her make-up wasn't absurd.

'MAX! What in the sam heck are you wearing? I told you to wear something hot for a change! And a leather jacket? Seriously, not the time for the badass accessories! You're wearing a Linkin Park _hat! _I mean I'm totally cool with them, and they've got good songs but we're going to see NICK FREAKING VALENTINE! I can't have you embarrassing me!' Nudge practically screamed. Sheesh this girl was over-reacting. I began ticking off my reasons on my fingers.

'One, I'm wearing normal, un-slutty clothes. Two, at least it's somewhat girly, and not sweats and a holey tee. Third, I enjoy my leather jacket, and it just so happens that it gets cold at night. Fourth, I'm pretty sure I'm not the one who'll be doing the embarrassing. He's just a guy, get over it. Besides, if you wanted me to come, you let me play by my rules.' I glared back. Nudge just rolled her eyes. She hooked her arm into mine and literally dragged me into the stadium.

The amount of crazy girls that came to Nick Valentine's concerts was unbelievable. You could practically smell the estrogen in the air. Gross. I can't believe how shallow the world has become, going insane over a guy you've never even met. What do they see in him anyways? His money? His fame? His looks? All shallow traits that show nothing about who he really is. Anyways, I was nearly deaf by the time we got to our seats at the very front and center of the stadium. It was a pathetic looking mosh pit full of teary eyed girls. There were seats though, thank god, so I didn't have to stand awkwardly the whole torture ride. Nudge was practically pissing her pants in excitement, and I couldn't help rolling my eyes at her childishness. The show wouldn't start until everyone was in so I got up to buy myself a soda. When I got back, the stands were filled with even more with girls heavily dosed up on make-up and breath mints. I creeped slowly back towards my seat. I even patted a hot dog selling guy's shoulder and told him that I fear for his life. It was funny watching him get even more nervous and sweaty.

In a totally clichéd moment, the lights dimmed and the audience silenced. And this creepy, maybe even toxic, green smoke rose from the stage and it showed the shadowed figure of a man, maybe 6 feet tall. As if we didn't know who it was. These green led lights started flashing and of course everyone breaks the hushed silence and starts to jump up and down. I even saw some girls climbing on the seats holding giant 'I Love U Nick! MARRY ME!' signs. Ok, seriously frightened for my life right now. So the dude walks up on stage wearing all black. Black jeans, black t-shirt, black leather jacket (which, unfortunately, I happened to like), black Vans, probably even black socks. His t-shirt had red writing though; 'Why do people have to lose things to find out what they really mean?', it was incredibly deep for such a shallow guy. I bet his wardrobe manager chose the shirt to make him seem real. I see flashes of silver too, a silver stud in his left ear, silver chain on his pants. But something catches my attention. These dog tags hanging around his neck along with a shark tooth necklace… Somehow I feel like they're important. But it doesn't matter because I second later his tan hand tucks them inside his shirt. For your sake, I'm going to describe Nick Valentine for you. He has olive toned skin and black hair that almost looks dark purple, like a raven's feather. His eyes are this striking onyx, and they look empty somehow. Though his face is split into a charming smirk, his eyes hold… nothing. I'll admit it, the guy was hot, totally working the Tall, Dark, and Handsome look. He has this toned body, with muscles in the right places. His face is angular, strong jaw line, full lips, straight nose. It makes him look mysteriously attractive, but that doesn't change the fact that he's a douche.

'Hey Los Angeles! How're we doing tonight?' He yells into the mike. I detect a slight British accent, and my heart flutters… Wait what? Gross, I totally didn't mean that. I look at my surroundings. Nudge is so lost in her own world that she doesn't have time for me, so I decide to risk listening to _real _music. I grab my iPhone out of my pocket and quickly send a text to my mother, assuring her that we were safe. Telling her that I was 17 and totally capable of handling myself in a concert. I've been to tons a rock concerts before, good bands mind you, but she never stops worrying. I love her for that, but it gets annoying. Then I plug in my earphones and let the soothing voice of Chester Bennington lull me. I'm in the middle of blasting Red Jumpsuit Apparatus when I notice that Nick's first song was over. He was talking really loudly and Nudge was twitching even more than before, so I figured it was something important. I unhooked my right earbud to listen to him speak. He has I nice voice, I thought randomly.

'Alright people. First song of the night is officially over. Was it alright?' He paused long enough to hear the desperate shrieks of the audience. And get this, the guy has the nerve to smirk! 'And now as I promised, after the second song I will select one lucky person from the front row to come on stage with me and sing one of my slower songs, Living Like Dead (**AN: I wrote this song btw, cuz I didn't know what song to choose. No hating please**).' He was met by a response that should have shattered the entire world's light bulbs. And I thought they couldn't get louder.

'ZOMG! Maxi what if he chooses me? That would totally be the like best day of my entire living existence! EEEPP!' Nudge was crying tears of joy. What a wimp. I roll my eyes and plug my earbud back in.

By the time I was finished nodding to the beat of Reap by RJA, Fang was done singing. I closed my eyes for a second and tried to block out the screaming. It was giving me a headache. And then I felt Nudge sharply jab in the ribs. My eyes flew open and I was about to glare at her when I noticed her looking pointedly at something in front of me. That's when I noticed that Nick Wannabe was standing in front of me with an out-stretched hand and a huge grin on his face. I saw that the big projector screens were displaying my shocked face as one of my earbuds hung stupidly from my face. It didn't last long though. I shoved my hat lower on my head glared at Mr. Valentine and adamantly shook my head. I could hear the gasps of surprise and I smirked. But Nudge shoved me onto the stage and I stumbled into Nick's outstretched arms. Can you say nauseatingly embarrassing? I refused to blush though, not in front of millions of girls and a few guys.

Nick is given another wireless mike that he offers to me. I reluctantly take it, a grimace on my face. He smiles a genuine smile at me, that seems to make the sun go out.

'Hey. I'm Nick Valentine as you must know. What's your name?' He asks politely. I glare at him.

'My mother told me never to tell my name to strangers.' I shoot back. He looks taken aback, but he shakes it off.

'Yah, but you know my name, I think it's only fair that I know yours…' He's smirking again.

'Her name is Maximum Ride!' Nudge yells stupidly. I slap my palm to my forehead. I'm going to murder that girl.

'Maximum. I like it. But I'll just call ya Max if that's alright. Do you know why you're up here?' He asks. I eerie silence has creeped in. Guess everyone was anticipating the next move from the strange girl who defied Nick Valentine.

'Quite frankly, no. I just remember being dragged to this stupid concert by my best friend. And then man-handled on stage by a poser of a guy.' I reply snarkily. Yes, I was being a bitch, but I was honestly pissed. The guy isn't even affected. He just grins and grabs a black acoustic guitar from a stage guy and sits down on a stool in the middle of the stage. I notice how the rest of his band is gone and there's one empty seat next to him. He pats the seat, and I carefully walk over, totally prepared for a giant cage to fall from the sky.

'Then you're in for a big surprise, Max' and he starts strumming chords on his guitar. He opens his mouth, and I properly hear him sing, without auto-tune for the first time.

(**AN: This is my song. I put copyright on it. The song is also cut off half way because Max isn't paying attention.**)

_Listening to the sound_

_Of crickets the moonlight_

_I'm wondering just how_

_You go on like you do_

_The silence has never been so loud_

_If you live like you are dying_  
><em>If I see that you're not trying<em>  
><em>Could you still mean everything to me<em>  
><em>I can never make you see<em>

_Id take a bullet for you_  
><em>You're more than I'll ever become<em>  
><em>You are the light that shines through<em>  
><em>The dark<em>

_Id swim an ocean for you_  
><em>You are my guiding star<em>  
><em>Ill be there for you<em>  
><em>if you ever stray to far<em>

_Don't make no mistake_  
><em>This real not fake<em>  
><em>Life can bring you unexpected turns<em>

_It might catch you down_  
><em>If you're off the ground<em>  
><em>Bury you deep<em>  
><em>In your lies<em>

_But Id take a bullet for you_  
><em>You're more than I'll ever become<em>  
><em>You are the light that shines through<em>  
><em>The dark<em>

_I'd swim an ocean for you_  
><em>You are my guiding star<em>  
><em>I'll be there for you<em>  
><em>If you ever stray to far<em>

I don't hear the rest of the song because I'm too busy being caught in his piercing gaze. I can't seem to look away. I'm awestruck by the haunting beauty of the song, and I surprise myself by realizing his true musical talent is actually immense. The song finishes and he smiles that beautiful smile again.

'So what did you think? Am I really just a poser?' I can tell he's joking, but his eyes are holding something I can't decifer. But somehow they're not dull and empty anymore. They're filled with something strong. Oh, here I go again, now I'm imagining things in his eyes. I'm such a freak.

I shake my head biting back a grin. 'I guess you're alright.' I shrug as if it's no big deal. When in reality it's a huge deal, considering I just realized how talented he was. But that doesn't mean I like him. He's still an arse. A stuck-up rockstar who traded his soul for the fortune and fame. A guy who does anything and everything for publicity.

'I like you Max. You're different. And just so you know, I'm not as much of a prat as you think I am.' He whispers in my ear, no one else can hear what he says. I bet the press are going to eat this up and start talking about Nick's new girl toy.

I just glared at him as menacingly as I could. I knocked shoulders with him as I hopped off the stage and I had the pleasure of seeing him stumble, un-prepared. I felt electric jolts run down my arm when my skin made contact with his, but I ignored it. I spent the rest of the concert immersed in my iPhone, playing Angry Bird. I didn't even glance up once… Ok that's a lie, but every time I looked up Fang was staring back at me. It was innerving.

At the end of the concert I shot up as quickly as I possibly could, dragging Nudge along with me. Nick wasn't even off the stage yet. Nudge shrugged out of my grip and squealed something about waiting for Nick's autograph, and trying to get back stage. I mutely nodded my head and told her I'd meet her back at the car. I couldn't help but feel like someone was staring at me intently and that it wasn't Nudge.

I walked out of the stadiums choking grasp and into fresh air. LA was always beautiful in the summer time, and I was so glad I didn't have school. I grasped my jacket firmly around me, the night air a little more cool then usual. I was still listening to music, Story of the Year (**AN: Check out all the bands I mention in this story. They are AWESOME**) this time. I felt the wind brush my cold ears when I suddenly realized that I wasn't wearing my hat. But I was so sure I had it with me during the concert, I tride to hide from Nick Valentine with it. I traced back my steps in my mind and I realized that in my haste to get off the stage my hat must of fell off because I didn't have it afterwards. Crap! That hat was autographed by Mike, Chester, and the rest of Linkin Park. I loved that hat! And now it's lost forever. I bet some loser's gloating over it right now in his shabby old apartment complex and I-

'Hey Max! Wait!' a strangely familiar voice called out. I paused my music and unhooked an earphone. I spin around and…

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><p><strong>Aqua: Sorry for the cliffy but I like these things, and I'm deciding to stop being nice and making fake cliffhangers where the result is obvious. I'm really bad at cliffys because I dont want to dissapoint.<strong>

**Iggy: Ok you're such a liar. I bet everyone can guess who's calling her. It's so obvious. Clearly I'm about to be introduced in the story.**

**Aqua: Yah, ok. Suuuuure. Whatever floats your gravy Igs. You just miss your fans.**

**Iggy: SHUTUP! You jerk! I don't even know why I bother with you.**

**Aquawings: Don't listen to him. He's high. But ah, guess who it is. I'll give you a sneak peek to the next chapter?**

**Igs: Read, Review. Maybe flame her for being mean to me?**


	2. Blond Haired Russian Guy?

**Ok so a few things. Thank you all sooo much for the reviews they were wonderful. A few of you got a sneak peak at who it was. And I'm just going to tell you now, yes the cliffy was obvious but that was the point. It was so obvious that I was hoping some of you wouldn't believe I would give it to you that easily. FanFiction didn't let me log on for like 3 days. Damn annoying I tell ya. An anonymous reviewer told me it was like another story 'Meet the Great Maximum Ride: Singing Sensation' by independantwriter-137. I read the first chapter but I couldn't really find any similarities. Swear on Angel, I am not copying anyones idea. I apologize if it's similar. I didn't read the rest of the story I'm sad to say because I didn't want to unconsciously copy independantwriter-137's ideas. Flattered that you all like it so much. I did realize I kinda wrote reaaaaally long paragrahs and it was harder to read on FanFiction but I was tired, and I didn't want to edit so I'll make this chapter better. This story has a lot of drama and it _will _have a plot, promise. So uhm enjoy.**

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><p>Stardazed Chapter 2- Blonde Haired Russian Guy?<p>

I see a nondescript male figure rushing towards me, down the alley I had walked into unconsciously. Now that I think about it, probably not the best place to go strolling by myself. The guy rushed forward, having seen that I paused to look around.

I suddenly backed up, a little frightened. He stepped into the light and I could see his face. It was none other than Mr. Nick Valentine. Just great… For a second, I relax my tense shoulders, at least it's not some serial rapist. But I tense again as he reaches out to me. I flinch back, and he notices. Nick lowers his hand, a slight frown on his perfe-ugly ugly lips…

'Sorry' he mutters, 'I just wanted to return your hat… You dropped it when you were uhm, hurrying to get off stage. I figured it was important to you. I mean Linkin Park signed it, that must be something right?' He mumbled uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his head. I can see his muscles flex, he's not wearing the leather jacket anymore. Drool… Pretend you didn't see that. He hands me my cap back, and I take it.

'Uhm thanks. I was looking for it. You're right, it is really important to me. Linkin Park is like my favourite band. I'm glad you found it.' I say, trying for a smile. I am grateful to him, surprised that he was so thoughtful.

'Yah, I just figured… Since, you don't really… Uh, never mind.' He stutters. I never thought I'd hear him stutter. It surprises me, that he's so nervous.

I always thought that Nick Valentine was all kinds of cocky. He has stage presence, I'll admit and he's damn good at saying what he wants when he's up there. But when talking to a normal person? He's so different, quite, unsure, hesitant. It's like he doesn't talk to real people very often, or maybe he's naturally shy, forced into being confident on stage.

'No, what? What were you going to say? I mean you brought my hat back. I want to know what you were thinking.' I encouraged him. This was a different side of Nick Valentine. Maybe he wasn't that bad, maybe he really is a nice normal person with feelings, maybe-Oh wait, he's smirking now. Forget I said anything.

'Well I decided a pretty girl deserves to get her hat back' He grins. I glare at him, and I resist the urge to flip him the bird. But at the same time, I'm trying hard not to blush, not for an unworthy douche like him.

'Tell me something though. Why don't you like me? Why are you so quick to judge someone you know nothing about?' His voice softens, and his eyes are searching mine. They're lit up, filled with emotion now. He really wants to know.

'Well. You've got tons of fans, mainly girls. And these girls, are fake, superficial, shallow. They're quicker to judge then I am. They don't know you. And yet, they convince themselves that they're in love with you. Is that not more judgemental than anything? What do you think they base their love on? Looks, voice, money?' I demand him. I'm getting angrier as I think about those girls. I _hate _people like that.

'You still haven't answered my question. And I expect you to Max. But to be fair, I'll answer yours. I'm not blind. I can see my fans for who they truly are. And I'm not going t give you that crap about loving all my fans. Yes, I appreciate them. But I have feelings to. I'm not someone who wants millions of girls from around the globe making out with my poster simply because they find me attractive. I love my music, it means everything to me. So when I have fans, I want them to appreciate my music, not me. And when I have friends, I want them to know _me, _not that guy on the cover of M. So answer my question, why judge me? Is it me you hate? Or the unworthy attention I get' He shoots back. He seems for confident now, more laid back.

I'm floundering. I don't know how to reply. How did this one guy, one stupid stuck-up fake superstar dig up all these things from inside me. How can he read me so well?

'I-I uhm. I have to go. My friend Nudge is waiting. It was nice meeting you Nick. Thank you for bringing my hat back.' I stutter, but I force my voice to become cold, distant, but polite. I swiftly turn around, hat in hand and start strutting back to where I came from, as fast as a casual walk would allow me. I see Nick, still standing there from my peripheral vision as I turn the corner. He seems so lonely, staring at my retreating figure. And somehow, for just a second, I have myself convinced that he's just a normal person.

*One Week Later*

I pushed the whole Nick Valentine thing into the back of my head, hoping against hope that I would be able to forget about it. But truthfully, I was thinking about it every 10 minutes of my spare time. I didn't understand Nick Valentine at all, he is confusing, bipolar, and completely unpredictable. Even though I wanted to know what the hell he was thinking, part of me was scared to find out. Why would he talk to me? Without realizing it, Nick Valentine had made me obsess over him, as much as any other girl. Greaat.

I had tried to distract myself this entire week, and failed miserably. I can't stop thinking about him. I strolled along casually in Beverly Center, trying to look like this was my scene. It was a beautiful sunshiny Saturday in Beverly Hills and I was in a mall.

See I've lived my entire life in California. Born in San Francisco, then my family and I moved to Los Angeles because my mom wanted excitement. I think it was to get over the hurt of my father leaving her for another woman, she was stuck with an innocent toddler, me, and she was confused. I guess it all worked out because we've been living in Los Angeles ever since. I guess some may think that I'm stuck up or completely focused on gossip and fame, but Los Angeles isn't all like that. I live in the Beverly Hills area, and things can be really peaceful. I like being able to drive to Hollywood with my friends when I want, but being far enough away not to deal with all the tourism.

Moving on. I don't like shopping, or trying on rack after rack of clothing articles that I'm never going to wear anyways. My whole thing is run in get what I need and get the hell out. I have to walk in to the Bev Center almost everyday after school, and every other weekend because I work in the awesomestastignifent (yes I just made up a word. Deal with it) music store in the whole ba-freaking universe, Music for the Soul (totally not an exaggeration). It's big, 2 levels, like one of those epic Barnes and Nobles with the comfy chairs. It has every record, CD, box set, music filmography, and music related tech you could ever want or need. The entire first floor is dedicated to music. There are Genre sections, then going by alphabetical name of the artist. There's a CD section, and then they have the vinyl section, where you can buy old original copy vinyls for like really high prices. Then there's a comfort zone where you can search up and listen to copies of music, kinda like the iTunes data base. It was filled with big comfy sofas and beanie bags, people could just chill and listen to music. There was a coffee shop next to the chill zone and it sold all your classic pastries and such.

Upstairs was even cooler. It had all the instruments there, second-hand, brand new, and instrument repairs. The store had every brand of instrument imaginable, Yamaha, Gibson, Ibanez, Ovation, Jackson, Fender. MFS (Music for the Soul) mainly stocks guitars and pianos. They have 6-string, 12-string, electric, acoustic, and bass guitars. They sell all the best pianos, upright, grande, baby grande, they have it all. They also sell other instruments, like violins, clarinets, brass intruments, flutes, etc. They did instrument repairs and tuning too. Unlike those uptight music stores, they let you test out the instruments. The store is big enough that they can have display instruments and still have extras in storage. You got to test out all the different pitched acoustics and electrics. It was amazing. The rest of the second floor held music tech, like amps, speakers, earphones, etc.

And the best part to all this amazing glory? I freaking work there. I landed a job here, surprisingly, because of my musical talent. That's right, I'm not incompetent. I don't brag, it's not my character, but if I'm being perfectly honest with myself. I'm good, maybe even great at playing the guitar, acoustic, electric, or bass. I can play the piano fairly well too. And I rock out on the drums, I like smashing the skins, gets my anger out. But one trait I really like about myself is I have an amazing singing voice. I'm glad I have these genes, because when I sing, I can put all the emotions into the song and say things I would never say if I was talking. I guess I'm kind of blessed.

I punched in my time and dumped my stuff in the employee lounge and made myself an ice cappuccino. I changed into the store regulated collared shirt with the 'Music 4 the Soul' logo. I was wearing skinnies and converse because I always feel more energetic when I do. Then I skipped over to Mike at the cash register and changed the entire stores radio station to my iPod, which I had plugged into the store wide dock. I told you this store was awesome.

'Hey Mikey Mike! You don't mind me changing your disgusting jazz do you? No of course not because I'm _wonderfull_!' I sang the last part out to him.

Mike rolled his eyes. 'Sure go ahead. Change my song. It's not like I was listening to it. My opinion doesn't matter. I'm nothing, nay less than nothing.'

'Precisely' I winked over my shoulder.

I was dancing around to Love Like Woe by the Ready Set when Phil the owner of the store walked in. He looked at me, shook his head, and walked back into his office with a grin on his face. Phil loves me, he's like an uncle.

The next few hours passed uneventfully with me stocking shelves, helping customers, scaring children who tried to be all 'I want video games' in a music store. It was around 7:30pm near closing time when I decided to wander around the store and look for new albums to buy because I was one of the only ones left, employees and customers. I was walking through the Rock section looking for some unknown band when I crashed into some dude. He had his arms full of CD and vinyls, which I had no idea how he found the money to buy. He was wearing a nondescript black hoodie, dark wash jeans, and black combat boots.

'Oh geez. I'm sorry. I didn't think anyone else was here. Did you need help with anything?' I asked politely as he scrambled to get up. His hood fell of and I was shocked by seeing bleach blonde hair and dark tinted sunglasses. He looked kinda like Chord Overstreet.

'Uh.. Erm. Non non, ziz is fine, yes? I just be ah, paying and getting out of the door as you Americans like to say it, yes?' The guy had an immediately discernable fake Russian accent, or well I think it was meant to be Russian. He seemed really familiar,

'Uhm. Ok… So uh where ya from?' Something about this guy seemed waaay off.

'I waz err, born in uhm Russia. You know the home countries. Selling piglets for broomsticks and such nonsenseness.' He mumbled. I busted out laughing.

'Awh, man you're killing me. I know you're not Russian dude. Give it up.'

'No, no. I am of ze Russian nature. Now I'll just be doing the paying, you be doing the beepy scanny thinghy and ve all be good good yes yes.' He scrambled to get up and his dark shades were knocked off in the process when I tried to help him up. I saw a flash of familiar obsidian eyes.

'Nick?' I asked bewildered. Was it really the Nick Valentine, at a music store…?

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><p><strong>Aqua: Ok I know, that was mean. But at least you know who the russian guy was this time. I think I described Music 4 the Soul in too much detail. And once again. Huge boring paragraphs. But i think it's just because I'm trying to fit everything about Max in. So it's kinda difficult.<strong>

**Iggy: You're a horrible writer...**

**Aqua: YOUR FACE IS A HORRIBLE WRITER!**

**Iggy: lolwut?**

**Aqua: I HATE YOU! NO MORE MINY SAUSAGES FOR YOU!**

**Iggy: -.- You're on a psycho rant again. So I'll just do this part for you. Please R&R. Also not a lot of you showed me love, I'm dissapointed. Oh and even though Aqua would never admit this, she does not own Maximum Ride or any related content to the series. James Patterson does.**

**Aqua: R&R- DO EEET. CLICK THE BUTTON. CLEEEECK IT**

**Iggy: stfu.**


	3. Coffee or Tea?

**K so wazzup peoples! Been a long time! Sorry 'bout the wait. What can I say, I procrastinate. Thank you for all the love! Iggy appreciates it. I hope all of you read the awesome ending to Table for Four, even if you don't know what I'm talking about you should read it. Table for Four is this crap story i randomly posted. Orignally it was a school assignment. Dunno why I posted it. But anyways, me and my best friend made the most amazing ending ever for the story :) So check it out and stuff. And then comment and tell me we're geniuses. Oh and I didn't mean to offend anyone in Table for Four, it's just a joke. K now I have nothing to say so ONWARD AND OUTWARD!**

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><p>Stardazed Chapter 3- Coffee or Tea?<p>

'Uhm… Hey Max. What's up?' He said nervously. He looked like a little boy who'd just tracked dirt into the kitchen.

'Uh… w-what're you doing here? Not like here as in this world but like here as in here here, like uh in this music store here because why would I ask why you exist? Cause that's just nonsense and I really don't understand why anyone would wa-' Nick slapped a hand over my mouth because I was mumbling nonsense and stuttering. I sounded exactly like Nudge. I've never lost my cool, but Nick was starting to make me nervous, in a good way, if that makes sense?

My heart was thumping in my chest and his hand was warm and it smelled nice. It wasn't a sweaty hand or anything, it was nice, long fingered and callous, but soft at the same time. Heat was rushing through my face, either from my blushing or from his body heat.

'Are you gonna stop blabbering like a fish so I can talk?' Nick said, grinning, amused at my wide eyes. I bobbed my head and he removed his hand. I immediately missed the warmth.

'So why are you here. In a music store. Buying music? Don't you have people for that? Or like couldn't you just get free copies or whatever?' I questioned him, eyebrow raised.

'Silly silly Max. I gave my people a vacation' He winked. I shot him a disapproving look. He continued talking.

'I prefer to buy my own music. No matter what you're opinion of me is, I am a normal person, as hard as that is to believe. And I have all of this money that I earn, why should I be greedy and keep it to myself? Money is made so you can spend it, not hoard it and use you're status to get free stuff. Besides, this is my favourite music store.' Nick said grinning.

'Oh, well uhm, alright. I guess that's a legitimate reason.' I said coolly. 'Well, why don't you come over here so I can scan your items.'

We walked in silence through the maze of shelves until we reached the cash register. I got behind the counter and started fiddling with the computer, getting it set up to scan.

'Hey Max?' Nick suddenly asked.

'Hmm?'

'Are you willing to give me a second chance? Let me prove to you that I'm not as horrible as you think I am.' Nick asked quietly.

'I-I… I don't know. I realize that I may have judged you too quickly, and that you do have a personality. But all of the things I've heard, seen, and read about you… I don't know Nick.' I mumbled. I gingerly grabbed his purchases and proceeded to scan them, careful not to break the vinyls. My eye caught onto an old Nirvana record, it was a 180g, limited edition, coloured vinyl. The real deal, straight from the hit 1991 'Nevermind' album. I held the vinyl up in his face.

'Nice choice. I've been waiting for someone to buy this. I would myself, but I don't have a gramophone. I just hope that this baby is going to a good home. Promise me you'll play it and not just display it for decoration! It needs to be played.' I told him. He smiled at me genuinely with I twinkle in his eye.

'It's an album isn't it? It was made to be played not placed and that's why I'm buying it. No way I'm buying a Nirvana vinyl and _not _playing it' He said grinning.

'Good.' I said quietly stroking the paper cover. 'At least you have a good taste in music'

He smirked at that. 'What? I can't be hot, talented, _and_ have good taste in music? I'm the whole package aren't I?'

I rolled my eyes and scanned his other items. He had a wide range of CDs, mostly bands though, which is good, like Linkin Park, Story of the Year, RJA, A Day to Remember, Nickleback, Breaking Benjamin etc. And, thank the heavens, no pop or any of his own music. Least he wasn't some stuck up prick who obsessed over his own music.

I handed him his purchases and started closing everything down and grabbing my pursey-satchel thing and my jacket. I changed out of my uniform too. I had expected him to be gone by now but when I swung open the staff room's door I nearly ran in to him. He had been waiting patiently outside.

'What're you still doing here? Get home! Shoo!' I said waving my hands. 'I have to lock up and unless you want to be sleeping in here tonight…' I trailed off. Actually sleeping in here wasn't such a bad prospect. They had tons of pillows, sofas, love seats, and beany bags.

'I was going to ask you. You said you were unsure of whether you wanted to give me another chance. But I really want you to like me.' He huffed. 'Of all the people in the world that hate my music, you seem to be the only one whose opinion I care about. So please, come get something to eat with me. We can talk and get to know each other.' He was nearly begging. And his eyes were so sincere I just couldn't say no to him.

'I'll pa-ay!' he sang convincingly. The prospect of free food had me caving and I ended up nodding my head. He grinned like the Cheshire Cat, a little creepily I might add, and swung the store door open.

'After you m'lady.' He spoke in a British accent that sounded really legit. I quirked an eyebrow and he shrugged.

'My Gran lives in England so I spent a lot of time there when I was younger, back when I had time.' He said smiling forlornly, as if remembering sunny day way back when.

'It's too bad you don't get to see her as often because of your career. I'm sure she's proud of you though.' I murmured as we walked towards the mall's exit.

'She is.' He said simply, smiling kindly at me. I could tell he appreciated my comment, I don't know how I read that off his face so easily, but it was just there. He held the door open for me again when we exited the mall and I was really shocked. I know what you're all thinking, it's just holding a door. Isn't that just common sense? But in all my life of living in L.A nobody has ever held a door for me. Not one person, for us, its common sense _not _to hold a door for someone because life's rushed. But Nick held the door open without even seeming to think about it. Maybe the boy was raised right.

'Where were you born?' I suddenly blurt out. I was thinking about where he was raised.

He quirked an eyebrow.

'You don't know?' He asks.

'No. Not a fan-girl remember?' I remind him.

'Oh right. Funny you should ask. Do you want the truth or the media's lie?'

'Uhm the truth? If you trust me enough…' I trailed off. There was more than one answer?

'I trust you. Besides, even if you screamed it to the world, nobody would believe you.' He said grinning. I felt a little flutter in my stomach when he said he trusted me. No! Bad Max, he's a prick.

'I was born in Toronto… Canada (**AN: Dedication to my country! :)**). Contrary to the popular belief that I was born in NYC. My agent thought it would make me more likable if I was actually born in the US.' He's rolling his eyes as he says this. My eyes are a little wide.

'So the famous 'American' rock star ain't so American after all.' I said grinning. 'Don't worry I have nothing against Canadians. I've been to Canada before and it's beautiful up there.' I knock shoulders with him, grinning like a kid on Christmas. It was almost like we were friends.

We agree that we'll take his car and come back for my baby later. Have I told you about my baby yet? No. Well my car is like the awesomest car ever. Or at least I think so. It's a 2010 Mustang GT Premium, with rear wheel suspension and a custom paint job. Some would say it's out dated, I say it's fracking amazing. I got it the year I got my driver's licence about a year or so ago when I was 16. My baby's black with flames spray painted from rear of the car to the front. Tell me that _isn't_ amazing.

Nick led me through the parking lot, keeping close enough that I could reach out and touch him, but not close enough to make it seem like we were anything other than acquaintances. I'm glad he respected my boundaries. Whenever he got to close my heart pounded wildly in my chest and my knees felt weak. I'm surprised he hasn't noticed. So with my hair standing on end we walked to his car. If you can call it that.

It was the saddest piece of junk I had ever seen a rock star own. It was an old Pontiac firebird. And no not a nice vintage firebird with upgrades, and paintjobs, and wings. It was your typical old '94 black Targa, which frankly wouldn't be that bad if it wasn't held together with duct tape. The paint was peeling of in places and the bumper looked like it had been through its fair share of car crashes. The only 'nice' thing about the car was the tinted one way glass. I could tell it was one way glass because when I looked through the glass all I saw was my reflection.

My jaw dropped.

'What the hell is this piece of crap? And to think I was expecting some kinda Lambo!' I say still completely frozen, eyes glued on the 'car'. And when I finally snap out of it and turn to Nick, he's no longer there. In fact he's rolling on the hood of his, uhm, transportation, laughing his sorry ass off. When he finally sobered up, he looked shiftily at me and motioned me over with the crook of his index finger. If I didn't know he was joking I would have thought he murdered someone. I leaned and he brushed my hair aside with the tips of his slender fingers.

'This car is secretly a magical portal in disguise. It can transport you anywhere in the world…' He breathed against my ear. I had to repress a shiver when his warm breath fanned across my neck. His breath smelled like green apples and cherries. Mmmmm, rock stars have the nicest breath…

'Nick… Seriously. Tell me the truth.' I glared.

'Ok, I'm secretly a vampire!' He bared his teeth and surprisingly, his incisors were actually pretty pointy. I wonder why he didn't get them fixed by some Hollywood orthodontist. He went on with the whole vampire pretence and proceeded to 'bite' my arm. I was laughing and giggling by that time, he started tickling me too, and he found my weak spot, stroking up and down my neck.

For a second, it was almost like we were two normal people, two friends, just horsing around. But we weren't. He was a world renowned rock star wearing sunglasses and a blonde wig, and I was just… well me.

'You know what?' I ask him.

'What?' He breathes out, both of us breathless after our giant tickle fight. His eyes are sparkling, and if you don't know what I mean, then you have never seen someone's eyes truly sparkle. He look light and happy, almost normal.

'I don't like your name.' I say, and he raises and eyebrow.

'I'm going to give you a new name. Something that fits better than Nick. I think since you have really pointy fangs, I'm going to call you Fang. It fits your whole dark and dangerous persona better than plain 'ol Nick, dontcha think?' I quirk my eyebrows. I grin thinking about the name, it fits. Fang.

'Hmm, nobody has ever given an explanation like that, or given me a new name for that matter. I like it. You can call me whatever you want. But for now, I think I promised you coffee.' He says winking as he walks around to the driver's side of the car. I get in after him. As he starts his engine I decide to question in him some more. He did say he wanted us to get to know each other.

'So why do you have a crappy ass car, Fang?' I ask. I add the Fang on purpose, I like the way the simple word felt on my tongue.

'It's less conspicuous. People will notice the types of cars I have in my garage so I drive a broken down one when I don't want to be seen. Even though Cali is full of nice cars, the paparazzi expect me to be driving in one, not in some 17 year old Targa. They look for the fancy cars they've seen me drive around for parties and stuff. They don't know I have this one.' He explains. He's grinning at the Fang part, I can tell he likes it.

As soon as the discussion ends a slightly awkward silence settles. I can tell we're both contemplating whether or not we should start another topic. We're both unfamiliar with each other and neither of us wants to speak first. The rest of the car ride is silent as we both dwelled on our own thoughts. He parks in front of a nice cozy little coffee shop that looks old and worn, but in a good welcoming way. He holds the door open for me yet again.

'Before you say I'm cheaping out on you, wait till you taste the coffee.' He defended himself, obviously thinking that, as with his old car, this old shop wouldn't be to my liking. I held up a hand silencing him.

'No, this place is great. I love it already.' I said smiling. The inside of the shop was warm and the delicious smell of freshly brewed coffee lingered in the air like a warm hug. Fang places a hand on the crook of my back, guiding me to a cozy table. The table has to big arm chairs facing each other and we both take time letting ourselves get comfortable.

'I'll go get you something, what would you like?' He asks, making a move for the line-up at the counter.

'I'll come with you, I want to look at the menu.' So together we walk to the counter. A kind spirited looking lady, around 50 years old, was serving customers coffee and pastries at one cash register. Her line was the longest, I'm assuming by the amount of people that smiled and chatted with her, was because everyone knew her. Fang lined us up for the next cash register, clearly not wanting to make me wait. The old lady spotted Fang while she's getting a tea biscuit.

'Nick, sweetheart, I haven't seen you hear in ages! I'm surprised you haven't visited me sooner!' The lady exclaims. I'm surprised she knows who he is, especially under his disguise.

'Hey Patty, I've been busy with work.' He smiles at her, using his fingers to put quotations marks around the word 'work'. Patty shakes her head.

'Of course you were. Always are, good to know you have time to take a break once in a while, and have a chat with me. Who's your friend? Not another one of your flings.' She says reprimanding, 'You never bring them here… This one different?'

I flush under her accusing glare. Fang had other girls? Wait, of course Fang had other girls! I'm not even one of his 'girls'.

'No, erm no miss. It's not li-' Fang raises a hand to cut me off.

'Yes, she is different. And special.' He smiles easily. I flush even more and my face is as red as a tomato. He leans down and whispers in my ear.

'Your blush looks nice on you' I smack him on the head when he says this, because he's making me blush even more. 'Well then Max, what would you like? Choose anything you want, as long as there's no long-term sugar rush afterwards I'm ok with whatever.'

'Uhmm. I'm not sure. Just get me a nice double double and whatever else you feel like buying.' I shrug. He turns to the cashier in our line. I notice her for the first time. She's this blonde haired blue eyed Barbie doll and she smiles flirtatiously as Ni- I mean Fang calls her to attention.

'Hey there. What can I get you, handsome? Oh and anything for your sister?' She smiles and winks at him. Uh-oh, she did not just call me his sister.

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><p><strong>Aqua: So because I want to get this out cause it's been WEEKS I cut it off. Not the best place to end, but whatever.<strong>

**Iggy: You should become a professional bear wrestler. Then when you die I can take over this story and make it all about ME!**

**Aqua: Oh shut up, this story isn't just about you.**

**Iggy: YAH! But I'm not even introduced yet! The people don't even know I exist. They don't even care :'(**

**Aqua: Oh cry me a river, build me a bridge, and get over it! Besides, you're getting introduced soon! As soon as Fang introduces you okay? Calm your horseys.**

**Iggy: OH YAH, WELL YOU FREAKING CANADIAN!**

**Aqua: So? Are you implying something 'bout Canadians? Cause I can whoop your ass.**

**Iggy: …Whatever. R&R PEOPLE! Bring on the love for moi!**

**Aqua: Mon dieu, tu est stupide. Est-ce que tu dois crier chaque mot? Mes Oreilles saignent. Tu es tellement ennuyeux, tu sais? Mais n'importe de quoi, n'oublie pas de 'READ AND REVIEW'!**


	4. There's Hell to Pay

**Woah it has been a LOOOOONG time. And I think that I'm really not being fair to you guys. I mean I've still got people reviewing even though it's been so long. I've got like ADHD or something and I can never concentrate on one thing for too long, especially if i've got something better to do or no ideas. With my brain being pre-occupied with either homework or music or when it's not functioning, writing long chapters for you guys is tedious. So tell me whether or not you mind them being shorter. I feel like I have to meet a certain expectation of pages for some reason, because personally when there's a story I enjoy, I prefer long chapters. I am so sorry about not updating both of my stories. My stinky laptop got a virus and I was afraid to turn it on *sheepish smile*. Anyways, summer doesn't really help me, because my brain goes on vacation. Either way, here's a chapter, that feels really filler for some reason.**

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><p>Stardazed Chapter 4- There's Hell to Pay<p>

Do you ever have that feeling like your life is some clichéd chick-flick? No? Oh, well you're not me then. You know it's understandable for somebody, like our lovely blonde cashier, to be put out by the fact that a non-descript plain Jane like myself can be found hanging around somebody like Fang. I mean come on, people like blondie there think the world revolves around them. In her mind, Fang and I, the pair of us together, ruins her entire concept of life. According to her, beautiful people and non-beautiful people just shouldn't be friends. My fists clench at her tone of voice, and the way she looks down on me. As if.

"Uhm actually, she's my girlfriend and we just want coffee. A double double for the lady and black for me." Fang stated the word girlfriend as if it was the most normal thing in the world, and honestly I was thanking the gods for not ruining the moment by having him using his 'Russian' accent.

I heard him mutter 'Like my soul', under his breath and I stifled my giggles. Which ended in me nearly hacking up a lung, while Fang awkwardly patted my back. I'm pretty sure there was drool down my chin because Blondie was looking at me like I was some raving Neanderthal. I finally straightened up and wiped the dribble of my chin.

"And a chocolate chip cookie? He's paying." I said meekly.

"…Right…" Blondie muttered and went to get our orders. Bad service much?

"What the hell was that 'My girfriend' bit! She looked like she wanted to kill me. You couldn't have just nodded and agreed? Like I need more crazy fan-girls attacking me!" I whispered screamed at Fang.

"But she doesn't know who I am" He pointed out smirking at my fury.

"This isn't funny! Nick Valentine I am never going out with you again!"

"So you admit this was a date." He grinned at me.

"Wha-NO! You shut up." I grumbled.

"Sure thing, date." He winked. Have I ever mentioned I _hate _this guy?

"You are INFURIATING!" I screamed, frustrated as hell.

"_ehem."_

"Really? You seemed to be enjoying yourself back at the mall. Or was I infuriating then too?" He started getting angry.

"_ehem."_

"You know what? You are exactly like I pictured you!" I stormed.

"_ehem."_

"OH? And how do you picture me?"

"_ehem."_

"You are a selfish, conceited, hot-heated douche bag who doesn't think about anybody but himself. All you ever want is more attention."

"_ehem."_

"And what? You just assumed that from staring at my poster? Get real! You're not the victim here MAX. You're the one assuming things about me! You never even met me before that concert! Who gave you the right to judge me?"

"_ehem."_

"ME? Yes, I judged you! Because you rock stars are all the same! I wasn't wrong either!"

"_ehem."_

"Forget it! You're not even worth the time! I can't _believe _I tried so hard to get you to like me. As if I needed another person with a 'better than thou' attitude in my life." He finally yelled.

"_EHEM!" _We both whipped our heads around to see the cashier holding two steaming mugs of coffee and a paper bag.

"WHAT?" We both yelled.

"I have your order." She whispered pathetically.

"Take your stupid coffee. I'm leaving." I muttered. I walked out side and realized I had no idea where I was. Stupid _Nick _and his stupid Targa, driving me to stupid places. It was going to take forever to walk back to the mall parking lot.

**Fang POV**

I stood there fuming for a second longer, remembering all the things _Max _had said to me before she stormed off like some misunderstood heroine. Ugh, the nerve of her. How dare she judge me. I don't even remember why I got mad anymore. I was just so pissed. In the beginning, Max was interesting. Like a new toy that you couldn't figure out how to work. She was a puzzle, and the challenge of figuring her out lured me in. I never figured her to be the person who stuck her nose up before even smelling the air.

Just the thought of her... Max was pretty. She had nice highlights, a slender face, full lips and eyes full of swirling emotions. Every thing about Max was natural, natural beauty, something not many people had. And even though she had a tough 'idgaf' image, she was kind thoughtful, and a good listener. Though not everything that came out of her pretty mouth was pretty. Like how rude she was to me, I guess that was her true colours.

"Excuse me?" A small voice asked. I turned to see the ditzy blonde that tried and failed to flirt with me holding my order.

"Oh yah thanks." I grabbed the tray of coffee and the cookie distractedly. Great, that cookie was Max's, and now I'm thinking about her again. She's probably lost somewhere now. It was a couple of blocks from Bev Mall… She was wearing those healed boots. It probably wasn't very comfortable. Maybe I shou- No! What are you thinking, she deserves it.

Then suddenly my mom's voice filled my head.

_Nicholas Tyson Valentine! I raised you better than this! Leaving a poor girl to walk back to her car! And by herself, mind you! _

_But M-OM! _

_No buts Mister. You go find that girl and give her a ride. Do you know how many creepy men there are in California?_

Okay, call me crazy, but I actually listened to the 'Mom' inside my head, which was of course a figment of my imagination. I hopped in my car, and started circling around for Max. All the while thinking about why my mother's scolding was so vivid in my mind.

It was weird, imagining my mom's voice. Because I haven't seen her in nearly 2 years. When I was sixteen I got it in my head that I could be a big star. And when a record label from Hollywood called me at my small town home in Virginia (I know born in Toronto, raised in farm country, what's up with my life?), I took the chance. Problem was my mom wouldn't let me go. Sure she was proud of me, kept saying how talented I was, but she refused to let me chase a 'child's fantasy'. My mom had this fear of famous people, ever since the situation with my dad. So instead of being a good little boy I ran away from home, with all my savings and my old '94 Targa. That's why I kept the car after all. And I haven't seen my mom since.

Up ahead I saw the slender figure of a girl, hoodie up, looking utterly lost. I had to chuckle a little, the expression on Max's face was so hilarious.

I rolled down the window at her already glaring face and muttered "Get in."

**Max POV**

I saw a shady little Targa pull up on the road next to where I was standing, and I figured it was F-Nick. Good riddance to him, I don't want to see his slimy face again. Sad thing was, my heart actually gave a little jolt. He rolled down the window, a wry smile on his face, as if laughing about something he shouldn't have been, and muttered "Get in".

"Get in? GET IN?" That's all you have to say?" I fumed.

He sighed, "Look Max, I don't want to argue with you. You have no idea how to get back to the mall and I don't want you walking back yourself and getting raped or something. I was raised better than that." He said, smirking a little at some private joke of his. What a jerk.

"NO!" I exclaimed. Then I remembered I _did _ have no idea how to get back. And I _was _lost. And the guy _was _offering.

"No?" He questioned again.

"…yes." I accepted defeated.

I slid into the passenger seat and he put the car into drive. _Let the awkward silence commence, _I thought.

Though I suppose I should be grateful. After all the horrible things I yelled at the guy, he still came and found me, just to make sure I was okay. Even saving me from possible rape or otherwise. And I did regret letting my anger get the best of me. The guy had been nothing but nice to me, even if he was a bit cocky. Pretty much nothing like my previous image of 'Nick Valentine' I had convinced myself he was. And yet I still threw in all those nasty comments I had about his fame.

I sighed.

I'm going to have to apologize aren't I? I hate apologizing.

"Hey uhm Fang?"

"-grunt-" He grunted at me. Grunted! Awe man he hates me, doesn't he?

"I'm sorry. About what I said. I don't really believe it. At least not now that I've met you. And thank you for giving me a ride. Even though I probably deserved to be ditched." I apologize. I probably failed miserable at sounding sincere, but I was, 100%.

"It's fine." He says. Great, now he's giving me two word answers. Yup, he so hates me. I'm screwed.

We lapse into awkward silence yet again. He reaches out and turns on the radio. _Your Guardian Angel_ by _Red Jumpsuit Apparatus _blares through the out of date CD player. Unconsciously I start humming along and soon I'm forming words.

_I will never let you fall_

_I'll stand up with you forever_

_I'll be there for you through it all_

_Even if saving you sends me to heaven_

"You have a really nice voice, Max." Fang mumbles.

"I- thank you." I stammer.

"I like this song. It's kinda sweet, in a corny way."

"Yah… I like this song too." I smile at his words, because he's right. And this time, when silence settles, it's not so awkward anymore.

When he finally drives into the parking lot I feel a lot calmer. At least I can leave today as an acquaintance of Nick Valentine's.

I mutter a 'thanks' before I leave. At least I try to. Fang's arm shoots out and grabs me.

"Wait! Don't go yet. I want to uhm, start over. This time, with me being a regular guy. My fame is completely deleted from the picture. I won't even mention it if you don't want me to." He pleads. I don't know what I did to ever deserve his kindness, but he just keeps coming back.

"Sure, I want to start again, maybe be able to clean my slate of all the bad things I've done to you. But, I don't mind the rock star gig. It's part of who you are."

"Great! Ehem. Hi, I'm Fang" He winks at me, extending a hand.

"Max" I reply, shaking his hand.

"So, Max, how does a VIP tour of my life sound? Say, next Friday? This time, I promise our date _won't _be ruined." He grins at me.

"That sounds wonderful. But no date. Just an… outing." I agree.

"An outing? Pfft, alright whatever you say." He smirks at me.

I enter my number into his phone, my fingers slightly shaking. It seems kind of unreal, the situation I'm in.

"I guess I'll see you then. Bye Fang." I turn to leave.

"Max?" He calls out again.

"Yah?"

"I'm sorry too." He replies, and I walk away with a faint smile on my face.

What an interesting day.

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><p><strong>A: Phew, I am such a terrible author. And to think I actually laboured over this piece of crap here. I'm not really happy with the results.<strong>

**I: Hehe, you suck. Writer's block is an awesome torture device.**

**A: Iggy!**

**I: Sorry, it's the truth. I thought you promised I'd be in this chapter.**

**A: Yah, but I'm stalling. You'll be in Fang's little tour of my life 'outing' with Max.**

**I: You're sick.**

**A: I try, anyways, I've become boring haven't I?**

**I: Babe, you were already boring.**

**A: Screw you. Oh and for you lovely reviewers, do as your name preaches and REVIEW!**

**I: They're not going to do it.**


	5. The Outing

**HEY Y'ALLS! I know I know, I'm the worst. I'm not even going to try to come up with an excuse this time. I should just go chuck rocks at myself. Oh the joys of High School. Anyways, this chapter is the chapter where... *FANCAY AWESOMETASTIC CLIMATIC MUSIC* Iggy gets introduced. I tried to get his real personality to a T. So tell me if he's not stupid enough ;) Furthermore, I would like to thank ALL of you for the reviews. A lot of you are asking about Camp Disaster. I usually don't like asking for reviews, but this can be like a poll sort of thing. I know not a lot of people bother with the real polls. So if I can get 12 reviews on this story mentioning Camp Disaster and how much you want me to continue, I will post my already half-way done chapter. Also:**

**I lOve gIrAfFeS, I have no idea who you really are, but you aren't signed in so I can't reply. But you bring up a good point. PATTY, the kindly old lady that I seem to reincarnate in all of my stories was never glaring at Max. She just thinks that Max must be different or something because Fang never brings his flings with him into his personal life. Pat's relationship with Fang will be revealed. Soon.**

**That's it I guess. So read and enjoy :)**

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><p>Stardazed Chapter 5- The Outing<p>

**Max POV**

_God bless us everyone_

_We're a broken people living under loaded gun_

_And it can't be outfought_

_It can't be outdone_

_It can't be outmatched_

_It can't be ou-_

'Hello?' It had been exactly 5 minutes and 36 seconds since Fang left. Ahem. Not that I was uhm, counting the minutes.

'-cough- Uh hey, Max. I was just uhm, checking to make sure you gave me the right number. I- I'll be going now. Not Not that I was still there I mean, I was but I left an- I'm just gonna hang up. Bye.' Fang's voice came out clearly through the phone. I stifle a laugh at his tone.

'Okay, bye Fang. See you soon.' I say grinning. Nick Valentine was a piece of work.

_-The Following Friday-_

'ZOMG! I cannot believe you didn't tell me you had a date with Nick Valentine. Actually I can't believe you didn't tell me you actually knew him! MAAAX!' Nudge was yelling. As usual. We were currently sitting on my bed reading teen magazines. Well Nudge was. I was trying to beat the new level of Angry Birds. I may be slightly obsessed with the game.

'Just once Nudge, I wish I had a guy best friend that I could pummel in COD, instead of well… You.' I say, gesturing vaguely to Nudge's picture perfect image.

'GASP! That is sooo not nice Max!'

'Well so-orry. You'd get grumpy too, if I had been squealing in your ear for an hour and a half. How many times do I have to tell you? It's not a date.' I mutter for at least the hundredths time. Not that it made any difference.

'Okay well I'll have to do your hair and make-up. Can't have you meeting famous people looking like a street hobo!' Nudge said muttering, rummaging through her make-up bag.

'Hey! I do not look like a hobo! May hair is combed!' I cry indignantly, but Nudge just continued to talk to herself as if I hadn't said anything.

'Now, I wonder if Fang has any hot famous friends? Maybe he could introduce me?'

'Oh my god. This is hopeless. Okay, Nudge. Go ahead. I give you permission to doll me up. But… the way I like it.' I finally consent. I knew it had been her plan all along. Annoy me into submission. It's the way it always worked. And I'd always end up changing her improvements. We were different, but not. So we meshed together perfectly. And in the end, she was like a sister.

'YAY! Thank you Maxie!' She squealed.

_-6 hours later. Kidding. 1 and a half hours later-_

'NOFREAKINGWAY! He's here! And he's driving a motorcycle! AAAAAH! Can he get any hotter?' Nudge cries excitedly. Well at least no one can ever sneak up on me with her ever present watch dog personality.

'He didn't.' Fang better not expect me to ride his damned motorcycle. Not that I don't love motorcycles. It's the riding part that I'm not so sure of. It's a good thing I decided to wear skinny jeans and a leather jacket. But of course, as soon as I say that, the door bell rings and in saunters Mr. Hothead. Dressed in road rash. Perfect.

'Hey Max. Hey Max's friend. Nice to see you again.' Fang says grinning proudly, as if he had just accomplished some amazing feat.

'OMG! Nick Valentine knows my name! Aaaah!' Nudge squeals. I'm waiting for her to start frothing at the mouth.

'NUDGE! You're name isn't even Max's Friend. It's Monique!' I cry in exasperation at her compulsive fangirl disorder.

'Well why didn't you say so. Hey Nudge!' Fang says, still grinning.

'Don't you start with me. Did you bring a motorcycle?' I question suspiciously.

'Yup. Kawasaki Ninja ZX-14. Not exactly the best model, but I figured you wouldn't like it if I showed off too much.' He said with a wink.

'Omygod. No way. No way in hell am I riding a motorcycle.'

'Well it's either that or walk. Either way we gotta get moving 'cuz we're burning daylight and I haven't eaten yet.'

'Ugh you're impossible!' I cry as I follow Fang out the door. I wave good bye to an ecstatically grinning Nudge. Then I spot the bike.

'Holy crap. Is that even safe? It doesn't even look like it can fit one person, let alone two!'

'Yup. It's strong enough. 180 horsepower of pure hulking machinery. Aaah, don't you just love it? Come on, let's go for a spin. I promise, I won't let you get hurt.' Fang said, hopping on the bike and holding a hand out.

'Uhm you know what? I think I've changed my mind. Why don't we reschedule. Hehe.' I mutter nervously.

'Max.' Fang reprimands. 'You'll be fine. I won't let anything hurt that pretty face of yours.'

'Gee. Thanks.' I mumble blushing. 'Alright. I better not die, or else I'm coming back to haunt you. You'll have a new edge. Nick Valentine the Haunted-By-A-Ghost Rock Star.'

'Haha. Climb on.' I hop onto the back of the bike, feeling the plush leather seat mold to me. 'You're gonna have to hold on Max. Unless you want to fall that is.' I quickly latch on to Fang, trying to ignore the tingle of nerves that spread from my fingers as I touch him. As soon as he revs the engine, I can feel myself start pour out a cold sweat.

'Uh Fang? Are you sure it should be making that noiiiiii-aaaaaah!' I fling myself onto Fang, pressing my body tightly against his. I clutch desperately at his waist, praying to god that I'd make it through this. I feel Fang deep chuckles vibrating through him, more than I hear him. The noise from the bike is loud and the wind is whipping through my hair.

Slowly, I find the courage to peek my eyes open. And then everything comes into focus. Sort of. The world is rushing by us, making everything look insignificant compared to us. I've never felt more alive. The wind adds to the thrill, and every time Fang makes a sharp turn or over takes a car a feel the adrenaline pump even louder. I was having the time of my life. I loosen my death grip on Fang. One because it's more relaxing, and two, being pressed up against his muscular body was starting to give me dirty thoughts. Not that, I'd ever have dirty thoughts about Nick Valentine. No way.

Fang begins to slow down as he enters the heart of Hollywood. He turns into the parking lot of this fancy looking glass building. It's flat, but huge, with big glass windows and polished metals. The parking lot is filled with VIP looking cars. I notice a sign that says _Cappricio Records Inc. _in big flashy letters. Fang parks in the spot that says reserved, his sporty motorcycle looking out of place next to the Bentleys and BMWs.

I slide of the bike with a shocked look on my face, I still couldn't believe how thrilling the ride was.

'Fang that was- that was-' I mumble, trying to find the right word.

'Dangerous? Terrifying? Absolutely excruciatingly unbearable?' he suggests.

'AMAZING! I've never felt more alive in my entire life! I mean the speed! The sharp turns! The wind in your face! The lack of constriction. It's absolutely amazing!' I scream, grinning as wide as a slice of watermelon. 'Thank you, thank you, thank you!' I hug Fang around the waist and I can hear him take a sharp inhale of breath. I feel his muscles tensing. I look up to grin at him once again, and his eyes lighten to a raven purple and sort of lose focus as he stares into mine. His mouth forms a lopsided grin and he tightens his arms around me. We stand there, staring at each other for a while. The world melts away. Then...

'Uh Fang? You can let go of me now.' I breathe, constricted.

'Huh? Oh, oh right. Yah. Sorry.' He says, running a hand through his already wind blown hair. He looks even more attractive if that's possible. 'Well come on then. I'll show you around.'

We walk through the shiny automatic doors into a brightly lit room. It looks like some rich people waiting room, with plush leather love seats, artsy coffee tables and piles of magazines on the latest hit stars. There are potted plants and paintings and posters of up and coming artists. I notice that Fang's face appears, a lot.

'Max? Welcome to my record company. It's here that I record my songs, for all the lovely ladies, such as yourself.' Fang gestures grandly. If there were crickets, they would be chirping.

'Wow, it's… fancy.'

'Well this way. There's someone I want you to meet. He should be around here. If we can't find him, we'll just follow the trail of snack wrappers.' I raise my eyebrow at his comment. He opens a door that says 'Valentine Studios'. I guess it's his room then. Or should I say hallway. Past the door is a hallway containing at least 6 or 7 other doors.

'IGGEFREEED!' Fang suddenly shouts, startling the crap out of me. A figure shrouded in a black cloak emerges.

'You called Master Nickolei?' The mysterious man says in a creepy voice.

'How ya doing Igs? Can you lose the cloak? You're kinda creeping out my friend here.' Fang says grinning.

'Fang, who the hell is this?' I ask, tugging on Fang's shirt.

'Iggy, meet Max. Max, meet my best and slightly disturbed friend James. But everybody calls him Iggy.' Fang says grinning. The man takes of the cloak to reveal a tall lanky strawberry blonde, with the biggest widest grin I have ever seen. Great, an over sized kid.

'HEY! I am very normal sized thank you very much! I just at my veggies when I was younger, unlike somebody.' The blond guy protested. Oh, I musta said that out loud.

'At least my name isn't Iggy, Iggy.' I shoot back. Then Iggy's face turns into the most hilarious expression I've ever seen. It's like halfway between confused, bitch-slapped, completely and mentally retarded.

'I think I'm going to go cry in my emo corner now.' He mumbles, turning away in defeat.

'I think today is going to be a very interesting day for the three musketeers.' Fang says, swinging an arm around each of us. Iggy punches him in the stomach.

'Ooof.'

**I: That was a completely unnecessary chapter! I'm not even like that! I would never wear a black cloak. It would totally clash with my hair! This is why you need Iggy supervision whenever you write chapters. So i can prevent things like this from happening. THIS ISN'T FABULOUS AT ALL!**

**A: ...Iggy... are you gay?**

**I: WTF? NO! If you want me to prove it to you... I can... *Wiggles Eyebrows***

**A: Maybe in your sweetest dreams, hun. *Shove***

**I: Oooooow. I think you broke something.**

**A: Good. So our lovely friend *snicker* Iggy was introduced this chapter. I think I will enjoy writing about him. Iggy's actually my favourite character. Despite his idiocy. **

**I: I always knew you had a thing for me. Come on, let's get this over with. I know a nice corner where we can make out without being disturbed.**

**A: Do I need to hurt you again?**

**I: Well I do like it roug-MFJGKS**

**A: *Hand over Iggy's fat mouth* SHUT UP. Freaking hell. Read and Review. Before I'm forced to murder this igiot.**


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